“We need two rooms,” Dubois grunted. “And my daughter would also like a hot bath.”
“Very good, milord,” the innkeep said, moving away to the counter to retrieve several keys.
“Your daughter?” Leah asked, raising her eyebrows.
Dubois ignored her, but she knew why he’d said this: it would raise fewer suspicions, and if Dorian came by the inn and demanded to see the ledger, he wouldn’t be as suspicious to see a gentleman travelling with his daughter. Indeed, Dubois wrote a fake name in the ledger. But it didn’t matter. Leah had seen horses in the stable. She had another plan for herself.
After a quick bath, she dressed in a gown that Dubois had asked to buy from the innkeep’s wife--it was made of an itchy material and of very poor quality, but it would do for now--and then came back downstairs to the dining room for her supper. The innkeep had set out a stew for them, and she sat down across from Dubois, who was already eating.
“Brandon is outside,” he said as she sat down. “He will make sure you do not run. And tonight, your door will be bolted.”
Leah nodded. She picked up her spoon, and then, when Dubois wasn’t looking, slipped the knife next to her plate into her lap.
“Before we reach Scotland I will stop in a village and buy you a nicer gown,” Dubois said after a moment. “You are right: you should look the part when you marry me. I will concede to your wishes in that regard.”
“Thank you,” Leah said, inclining her head. “I appreciate that very much.”
Dubois looked far too pleased with herself, but that was a good thing: anything to lull him into a false sense of security. They ate the meal in silence. When Leah was done, she set down herspoon, then let her hand drop to her lap, holding the knife in the folds of her skirt.
“May I go to bed?” she asked.
“You may. And don’t forget: if you try to run, Brandon is right outside, watching.”
Leah nodded. She stood, pushed in her hair, and then moved around the table, so that she would have to pass behind him. He scooted in his own chair to let her pass, and right as she passed behind him, she pulled out the knife. In one swift movement, she brought it to his neck and pressed the blade into his skin.
“What are you--” he began, but she pressed it in harder, drawing blood, and he stopped speaking at once.
“Don’t speak,” she whispered, grabbing his hair at the same time and forcing his head back, exposing his neck even more. “Is the gun there, in your pocket?”
Very slowly, the knife still pressed into his neck, Dubois nodded. She could see his eyes bugging out of his head, the fear in them palpable, but she didn’t care.
“If you move to grab it, I will kill you.” She had never thought she would say these words, but she had also never been so sure in her life that they were true. “Is that understood?”
Again, he nodded. Keeping the knife pressed into his neck, she reached down with her other hand and pulled the gun out of his pocket.
Releasing him, she moved away quickly, raising the gun and pointing it right at him. Their eyes met, and the shock and fury in his face was almost enough to make her hesitate.
Almost.
“I am leaving now,” she said, “and if you follow me outside, I will shoot Brandon, and then I will shoot you. Understand?”
“You don’t have the guts,” he snarled. There was a drop of blood on his neck, and the sight of it gave Leah strength.
“Oh, I have the guts,” she said, smiling wildly at him. “Go on and test me--but on your head be it.”
Dubois didn’t move. She reached behind her with one hand and felt for the door handle. “Scream and you die,” she said. “Do anything to alert Brandon and you die.”
She found the door handle and pushed it open. Freedom was seconds away. She bolted .
She ran as fast as she could. Down the corridor. Down the next. Then there was the front door. From there, she kicked it open, and she was out in the night.
Brandon was sitting nearby on a stump, eating a bowl of stew. He looked up as she came out, his eyes going wide at the sight of her holding the gun. She raised it high and pointed it at him.
“Run!” She shouted. “Run or I shoot.”
He was on his feet in seconds, sprinting away into the darkness. And then she was running, full speed ahead, toward the stables. Her legs were moving so fast that they felt as if they were filled with fire. She didn’t even need to saddle a horse. As long as she could just get on one, she could ride astride, as fast as she could, until she found help.
There was a shout behind her from the inn, and she realized with a jolt that Dubois was following.
